Where Angels Fly
by One Little Spark
Summary: Set some time in the future after the end of Season 3 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy seeks out Angel for his assistance in a terrible task. But is it all as it seems... or is some other presence testing him?
1. Chapter 1

_I started writing this back in 1999, before "Angel" had started, and before I had a clue how the series was going to work, or what characters were going to be involved._

_Disclaimer: As usual, the characters, etc. belong to Joss Whedon. I've just borrowed them temporarily._

_Hope you enjoy (and I'll post more chapters soon)!_

**CHAPTER ONE**

Los Angeles.

City of Angels.

Maybe it had been once. Now, it was like any other city: over-populated, dirty, and wrapped in the smog that enveloped it like a cloud. On the streets at night, enough evil was mixed in with the good that it would be easy to mistake it for a mystical convergence of dark energy. Strange, then, that the one she sought had moved away from such a place to come here.

She moved stealthily through the dark alleys, following the sound of voices, until she came to an opening. Keeping herself in the shadows, she watched, knowing she had found him. Smiling slightly at the irony, she reflected it was stranger still he bore the name of the city he had moved to: Angel.

# # #

Angel had the uncanny feeling he was being watched. Unused to being the prey - weren't vampires supposed to be hunters? - it made him uneasy and on edge.

He finished talking to the wino - amazing the information their drunken ramblings gave out - and sent him on his way, watching bemused, at the wobbly path the man walked without seeming to realise it.

His face darkened. He had been like that once: a drunken lout. Well, he had got his comeuppance in a way he'd never imagined. It was only through a curse that he still retained his soul. But it would never truly be his. It could be taken from him in a second if he achieved true happiness... like that night...

Angel swallowed, and pushed away the memory. He had let her go and that was the end of it. They could never have a normal life together; he knew it beyond a doubt. But that didn't make the pain go away and it didn't stop his love for her. No, he would never stop loving her.

How long ago had he left Sunnydale? 2, 3 years? She had been 18 then. Now, he didn't even known if she was still alive...

Roughly, he pushed his thoughts aside. It was dangerous to think of her. And he had other things to do.

As he started to move out of the alley, he felt it again. Eyes watching him. He stopped, and slowly turned around, scanning the area around him, trying to peer into the shadows.

"Who's there?" he called into the seemingly empty alley.

No one responded, but the sensation of being watched remained. Angel felt anger begin to rise. If someone wanted to talk to him, why did they always have to play games? Darla had done much the same thing, and she had lost the game. Whistler had too, but he still lived. The fate of the Watcher was as yet uncertain.

"It'll be dangerous for you unless you show yourself," he threatened, his voice soft, but with strength beneath it.

He waited, wondering what would happen. For a moment, nothing did. Then, he heard footsteps approaching from an alley adjoining the one he was in.

"Ah," said a voice that sounded oh-so familiar, "but it might be dangerous for me TO show myself - did you ever think of that?" There was a mock sigh. "But since you insist."

A figure stepped out of the shadows, blonde hair swept up into a ponytail with a few strands loose here and there.

Looking at the petite woman before him, Angel couldn't speak, couldn't even move.

But she could.

She walked towards him, stopping an arm's length away. The teasing smile she'd been wearing faded away to leave just a small smile, but one with sadness behind it.

"Hello, Angel," she said. "Remember me?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to you lovely people watching the story. I hope you enjoy the next chapter!_

_Usual disclaimer: the characters, etc. belong to Joss Whedon. I've just borrowed them temporarily._

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

Buffy.

As if he could ever forget her.

Her name echoed in his head. Strange how he could derive such pleasure, and yet such pain from that one word. Pleasure because he loved her, and pain because he knew their love wasn't possible... which was why he'd left Sunnydale in the first place. He'd wanted her to have a normal life, one they could never have together. He'd wanted to set her free...

Even as the thought entered his head, something in him laughed bitterly. Who was he kidding? What had he moved here for if not for her, if not to try to find _some way_ they could stay together. He had never stopped hoping that, somehow, through his redemption of others' souls, he would be freed from the demon that possessed him so he could be with the one he loved... with Buffy.

Yeah, like that could ever happen.

Angel grimaced. He would just have to face up to reality. Vampire Slayers and vampires couldn't have a relationship... unless, of course, it involved a wooden stake...

Still, the feeling remained.

Looking into the Slayer's face, memories coursed through him: holding her, kissing her, dancing with her, simply being with her. His emotions were warring with each other. He wondered if she had any idea what her appearance in LA had stirred up within him. He wondered what she was thinking right now.

And that was when he noticed the sadness, the really deep sadness that dwelt in her eyes. A shiver crept up his spine as worry settled in, blanking out any other emotion for now.

Why hadn't he thought of it before? For Buffy to come to LA and seek him out, there must be something terribly wrong. He had been too caught up in his feelings for her to think rationally. But he was thinking now, and his thoughts were leading him in all sorts of directions he _really_ wasn't liking. There was only one way to sort this.

"Buffy," he said, "what's wrong? Has something happened?" He resisted the urge to grab her shoulders as the panic within him grew a little.

Buffy smiled ruefully. "Yes, I'm fine, Angel," she said. "It's awfully sweet of you to ask."

At her teasing, slightly sarcastic tone, Angel relaxed, smiled a little. It was so in keeping with her character to say something like that. Strange how he'd missed it.

"Sorry," he said. "Your appearance startled me."

Buffy jumped to life, and pointed a finger at herself, her eyes wide and innocent. "Me too," she said. "One minute, there I was dusting vamps, and then, all of a sudden, I just decided I _had_ to visit you in LA. You know how I love the grime, and the dirt... and the low lifes... and all the fun stuff you get around here..."

Angel's smile grew as her words slowed and eventually trailed off.

She hadn't changed. Her spirit, her fire, her way of looking lightly at life... Those aspects of her character had kept her alive when he first knew her and he suspected they still did now.

"The fun stuff we get around here?" he mocked lightly.

Buffy grimaced. "I know. Pretty low, huh?"

Angel nodded, his characteristic half-smile still in place. "So why _did_ you come to LA?"

Buffy took a deep breath, studied the ground for a moment, and then looked at him, all trace of teasing gone from her face.

"Angel, I need your help."


	3. Chapter 3

_Usual disclaimer: the characters, etc. belong to Joss Whedon. I've just borrowed them temporarily._

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

Several hours later, he was still trying hard to take it all in.

He had taken her back to the apartment he shared with Cordelia, though, luckily for them, Cordy was visiting a friend and wouldn't be back until the following day. She was taking a break from what she termed the "all pain, lesser gain" business. Still, she helped, and had helped since he'd arrived in LA. He gave her points for that... even if she did drive him crazy on more than the odd occasion.

Buffy had talked, and he had listened... until it had got too much, and he had just wanted to shut it out. Now, she was sitting on his bed, fingertips resting lightly on the coverlet, the picture of calm. He stood by the window, fist pressed against the wall, staring at the city below but seeing none of it. Thoughts were running around his head with such speed it was making him dizzy. On the outside he might seem calm; inside he was in turmoil.

Unable to be still any longer, he bashed his fist hard against the wall, welcoming the momentary pain, and turned to her.

"Are you _sure_?" How many times had he asked that question? He was losing count.

She regarded him with sad eyes. "I'm sure," she said, and then lost a little of that calm she'd wrapped around herself.

She stood up, looking at him, a sort of wildness about her expression. "Don't you think I'd have checked something like this?" she asked, her hands making nervous gestures near her sides. "And double checked, and triple? Even checked _ten times_ to make sure there could be no mistake?" She gave a bitter laugh and turned, walking away from him, around the room. "It's not every day you learn about such a special breed of vamp."

_The Order of the Lost._

Angel closed his eyes in pain. Buffy had told him about them soon after they reached his apartment. They were integral to his understanding, she had said. She had been right.

The Order of the Lost was a group of vampires who thrived solely to stop the Slayer... but not by using any normal methods. Life didn't matter to them, undead or otherwise, and from the minute they pledged allegiance, they considered their lives lost. They consumed the worst concoction of poisons known to man and demon, letting them absorb into their very structure. But before they could perish from the deadly onslaught destroying them from the inside, they sought the Slayer, walking homicidally towards her, until she could stake them by hardly moving her hand. Such an easy kill for the Slayer, but as the dust of the vampire settled around and on her, unconsciously, she would breathe it in, and, with it, the means for her destruction, completely unaware of what she'd just done.

The visions it was conjuring up of Buffy cut Angel inside, like a knife. The pain was far worse even than when Buffy had died at the hands of the Master.

"Are you _sure_ there's no cure?" he asked, trying to control the tremor in his voice.

Buffy approached him, her eyes catching his, not letting him look away.

"Angel, I told you," she said patiently, quietly. "For even the slightest effect on that amount of poison - not to mention the variety of the icky-stuff -" - for a moment a smile crossed her face, as she tried to lighten the atmosphere -"I'd have to consume a massive overdose of drugs... Now, wouldn't that make an interesting twenty-first birthday?" She smiled wryly, inviting him to share it with her.

But he couldn't. Her twenty-first birthday. Tomorrow. God, she was so young. Most Slayers didn't even reach that, he knew, but, somehow - obviously in that dream world of his - he had thought she'd live forever.

Instead, the poison she'd absorbed was already working inside her, burning her from the inside out, much as it would have destroyed the vampires if they'd thought to keep the concoction to themselves.

It would work slowly - she probably had about two more years to live - but it would weaken her, sap her strength, and, little by little, the pain would grow... until, near the end, she would be in agony such as no mortal creature could endure. Except, she was the Slayer, and had greater endurance than most, so the pain would be prolonged.

Angel grit his teeth, fighting against the cry that wanted to escape. It was too unfair. He should be able to do something, save her... and yet over-240 years of life had afforded him nothing!

The loud crash, and Buffy's startled expression brought him back to the room. He looked around, pretty sure what he'd done.

Sure enough, the chest of drawers on his left was missing a drawer. That drawer was in a mess on the floor, the handle ripped off, creating a jagged hole. His fist was still clenched around the handle.

Suddenly, he felt Buffy's hands on his face, a gentle touch, but one that exerted enough pressure to turn him back to her.

She was determined when he finally faced her, her lips stubbornly pressed together. She smoothed her hands over his forehand and cheeks, releasing her expression as she did so.

Angel felt the vamp face he hadn't been aware he was wearing, fall away from him under her hands.

She smiled so sweetly, then, as she looked at him, that he couldn't help the slight intake of breath - a reflex, nothing more; vampires didn't breathe - the only betrayal of his reaction to her.

"Angel," she said gently, trailing a finger lightly down his cheek, in an unconscious and innocent gesture, "you have to accept this. Like I've had to."

As if she suddenly noticed the feel of his skin beneath her hand, she watched her finger's path with growing wonder in her eyes.

Angel struggled to stay still under the feather-light caress, but Buffy's news had managed to break down just about every emotional barrier he had erected, and his feelings for her were very near the surface. It didn't need much for him to react to her in normal circumstances, and these were exceptional ones. Still, it couldn't be. Their love was essentially forbidden...

It was as if she had read his mind. She looked down as her hand dropped to her side. When she looked at him again, the sadness was once again in place.

"I need your help, Angel," she said simply. "Can you deal?"

For one hundred years he had kept a tight hold on his emotions, on one of his more deadly instincts. He'd had to: to give into the bloodlust would have been the worst kind of defeat possible, and the loss of life would have weighed on his conscience far more than anything he had done when the demon was in control.

Now, Buffy was essentially asking him to use that control to accept something he couldn't. There just _had_ to be another way...

Then, he caught the look in her eyes. There was resignation, and just a little bit of hope. He'd put that hope there; she was relying on him. There _was_ no other way.

As he admitted it, it felt like something inside him was breaking up, shattering, but his expression didn't reveal a thing.

"I can deal," he assured her quietly.


	4. Chapter 4

_Just to clarify – this story is kinda set outside of the "Angel" seasons. I wrote it after season 3 of "Buffy" ended and before "Angel" began. I knew about it; I just didn't know any details, so if anything doesn't ring true with the series here, that's why._

_Usual disclaimer: the characters, etc. belong to Joss Whedon. I've just borrowed them temporarily._

* * *

**CHAPTER ****FOUR**

Buffy looked relieved, and suddenly tired, as though she had made herself keep going until she knew he would help her. There were black circles under her eyes, which he wondered he hadn't noticed before, and a few blonde hairs had strayed across her face. He had a sudden urge to push them gently back behind her ear. He felt his hand twitch, lift slightly, and then he got a grip on himself, forcing the impulse away.

"You look tired," he said instead.

Buffy smiled, one eyebrow raised mockingly. "Yeah," she said. "It must be all that sleep I never got round to having."

He gestured to the bed. "You should get some rest."

Buffy looked at the bed, then back at him, uncertainly. "Er, there's only the one bed," she said. "Where are you going to sleep, that is assuming you're going to sleep?"

"I'll crash on the couch," Angel assured her. _I won't sleep, but I'll crash on the couch._

"Oh."

Buffy looked at him. He met her eyes, and something seemed to fly between them. There was suddenly a tangible tension in the room, and the air seemed thicker somehow. Buffy's tongue darted out to wet her lips, and that was when Angel knew he _had_ to get out of the room.

Quickly, he opened the door, breaking the link between them. Without looking at her, he gestured to the broken chest of drawers.

"You can borrow a shirt or something if you want," he said. "I'll leave you now."

He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Like an automaton, he removed his shirt, getting ready for bed. It didn't matter that it was still night, that he wouldn't sleep. He had to do something to get his mind off Buffy. If he wasn't imagining her in agony from the poison coursing through her body, he was imagining holding her, kissing her - dreams fuelled by memories - and it was beginning to drive him crazy. He wanted to protect her, save her, and he couldn't. He wanted her, needed her, and that wasn't possible either.

Almost against his will, he turned and went back to his room. He would just check she was okay, and then he'd leave her in peace. Yes, he'd just do that.

His hand hovered over the door handle. His other hand tapped gently on the door. He entered when he heard her voice.

She had turned off the lamps. Now, the only light in the room was from the street lights and neon signs, casting an unearthly glow about the walls. He could see Buffy, standing by the bed, dressed only in one of his shirts.

He stopped dead in the doorway as he saw her, just drinking in the sight of her. The shirt was way too large for her, and finished halfway down her thighs. The sleeves flopped over her hands, and her blonde hair was loose, falling nearly down to her waist.

Angel swallowed, and tried to get a grip on his errant emotions... and then he noticed her stunned expression was fastened on his bare chest. That didn't help him at all, he decided, and closed his eyes, tightening his fingers around the door handle, hoping the slight pain would drive the need to touch her away. It didn't, but it calmed him slightly, enough to allow him to open his eyes again.

He watched Buffy dazedly shake her head, and then look at him, questioning.

"I - you -" Angel began, and then tried again. "Do you need anything?"

Buffy smiled, and shook her head. "No, thanks," she said. "I'm cool."

"Right." Angel couldn't seem to stop looking at her. Roughly, he shook himself out of it. "I'll, er," - he gestured behind him to the doorway - "I'll be just out here."

"Okay," Buffy said softly, wistfully.

_Okay_, Angel thought, and started to turn, walk out of his room, back to the sofa.

"Angel."

At Buffy's voice, he turned to face her. There was such vulnerability in her eyes, he wanted to hold her, take away the pain.

"Stay with me?"

He knew what she was asking. He was pretty sure her expression was a mirror of his own. She wanted comfort, to feel protected, to be held close to someone and feel loved. Even if it wasn't real, just for a little time it could be. There wasn't any way he was going to refuse; he couldn't. He had been given an opportunity to be near her, and he needed to be. Much as she needed to be held, he needed to hold her. For the moment, that was all that mattered to him.

She must have seen his answer in his eyes, because she smiled slightly, a trace of happiness in her expression, and got under the covers.

He shut the door he had been holding open, and slowly walked over to the bed, getting in beside her.

She immediately went to him, curling herself against his body, resting her head near his shoulder, as, almost instinctively, his arms wrapped around her. She sighed then, a peaceful contented sigh, and shut her eyes.

Exhausted as she was she was soon asleep. Angel could hear her breathing, quiet, but steady, in the silence of the room. He could smell her scent, and feel the softness of her skin where it touched his. Unable to resist any longer, he trailed a gentle finger down her cheek, and pushed her hair behind her ear.

She made a small sound of contentment, and snuggled closer.

Angel closed his eyes. _God, how he'd missed her_. For a heart that was as dead as his was supposed to be, it felt fit to burst right now - pleasure mixed with pain: was that always how their relationship was going to be? He pushed the thought aside. For now, it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that she was here... with him.

He pressed a light kiss to her hair. "Buffy." Her name came unbidden to his lips and emerged as a whisper full of longing. Then, he closed his eyes and relaxed, falling asleep with the knowledge that he held her in his arms.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks everyone who's reading the story and for all the reviews! _

_I've had comments about including the characters who joined "Angel" a bit later, including Fred, Gunn, and Connor. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to see much of the series, so I didn't meet very many of the characters - Connor and Fred I don't know at all, and Gunn I only saw in one episode... I think. This would make it really difficult for them to be included in the story with any realism; I'd probably make an extreme hash of it. I'm really sorry to disappoint you, but I think it would be more disappointing to read your favourite characters acting in a completely uncharacteristic manner. I hope it doesn't spoil the story for you too much._

_Usual disclaimer: the characters, etc. belong to Joss Whedon. I've just borrowed them temporarily._

* * *

**CHAPTER ****FIVE**

He woke to the feel of her pressed against him.

It was a wonderful feeling, and, for a moment, he thought it was a dream. But then he remembered, and it wasn't a happy experience.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, and looked at her.

She was still facing him, her expression peaceful. The last time he had watched her sleep, he had known it wouldn't be too long before he would have to set her free. He'd been denying it, but denial could only work for so long before reality set in. Now, he was free to just watch her: the way her lashes curled against her cheek, how her lips were slightly parted, the sunlight turning her hair to gold...

Angel backtracked on that. Sunlight!

Slowly, he raised his eyes, careful not to move an inch.

Ahead of him, the blinds for his windows, which he usually closed before sunrise, lay wide open, and the sunlight was pouring through the windows. He had been too caught up with Buffy last night to remember to close them. Angel silently cursed himself. Now, he was trapped. If Buffy moved even an inch, the sunlight would hit him, and he would burn.

Beside him, Buffy stirred. He switched his attention to her.

Her eyes flickered open, and stared directly into his. Angel felt his breath catch, and, for the moment, the sunlight was forgotten. Slowly, she smiled, and he felt an answering smile appear on his face.

"Hello," she said shyly.

Angel was enchanted. He couldn't help himself. He reached out a hand to touch her.

Suddenly, he felt as though his hand was on fire, and he abruptly withdrew his hand back into Buffy's shadow, the sunlight problem once again uppermost in his mind.

"What?" Buffy was alarmed, and began to turn.

"No!" Angel almost screamed, but she had already stopped moving, her attention caught by the smoke coming from his hand.

Her eyes met his again, full of understanding.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll protect you."

The fear, worry, everything he'd been feeling was pushed away by the sense of wonder those words gave him. _I'll protect you_. She'd come to him for help, but she was helping him. After everything he'd done, she would protect him. So slight, so frail, he could lift her as though she weighed nothing at all, but she'd protect him.

He couldn't move because of the sun, otherwise he would have reached out to touch her face, to convey what those words meant to him. As it was, he was sure it was written all over his face. _Oh, Buffy_, he thought, _I love you_.

His eyes caught hers, and he saw recognition in her expression. Careful not to leave him open to the sun, she moved herself closer to him, so he could feel her all down the length of his body. Her hand came up to touch his cheek. Such a light caress. He closed his eyes, relishing it.

Then she kissed him, her lips barely touching his. It was over before he knew it had begun.

His eyes opened, searching for hers, needing to have some idea of why she'd done that. But she was looking down, concentrating on something. Suddenly she pushed him with all her Slayer strength.

He rolled off the bed, and onto the floor with such speed he barely felt the sunlight. Down by the side of the bed was complete shadow. As undignified as the fall off the bed had been, he was now in relative safety. Even as he realised that, he heard Buffy get off the bed, and move to the window. One by one, the blinds came down, and the room grew steadily darker.

"Okay," he heard her say," the big bad sun has gone away. The vampire can come out to play."

"Very funny," he muttered, loud enough for her to hear, as he got up from the floor, dusting himself down.

Then he looked at her, and, once again, all thoughts fled from his head.

She was so beautiful, even sleep-tousled, with her hair slightly fuzzed, and one shoulder bare where the shirt had slipped down during the night. He found himself walking towards her, as though his feet had a mind of their own. She met him half-way, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Don't I get a thank you?" she asked.

"Thank you, my protector," Angel dutifully intoned, smiling down at her.

"I'm happy to be of service." Her voice was slightly breathless, and Angel realised he had bent his head towards her, bringing her closer to him.

"Well, it's -" He was distracted when she wet her lips. Doing his best to put it aside, he tried again. "It's always good... to be of service, that is."

Had she moved closer, or had he? What did it matter? What mattered was that he couldn't seem to move away.

"Don't people get rewards?" Buffy asked. Her gaze fastened for a moment on his lips. Abruptly, she pulled it upwards, to his eyes. "For services they've given?"

"I believe so," Angel said. She was so close, it was a form of torture. The desire to hold her, and to kiss her was growing too strong to be denied.

"Do I get a reward?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry for the delay between chapters. Life interfered... funny how that happens..._

_Usual disclaimer: the characters, etc. belong to Joss Whedon. I've just borrowed them temporarily._

* * *

**CHAPTER ****SIX**

Buffy was close enough that he could feel her breath on his skin. He closed his eyes, trying to get some logic back into his thoughts.

"What do you want?"

Logic wasn't working. Everything in him was clamouring to kiss her. All he had to do was bend his head...

"You -"

Before she could say anymore, he had stopped her mouth with his own. He wasn't sure if that one whispered word had been a figment of his overwrought imagination, but, for now, he really didn't care.

His arms wrapped around her, one hand splayed at the small of her back, holding her against him, while the other entwined with her hair as he deepened the kiss.

He was like a man deprived of water for too long. He drank her in again and again, savouring the sensations running through him. She met each kiss with a passion that equalled his own, her arms at the back of his neck, as she raised herself on tiptoe, bringing her into closer contact with him.

The shirt she was wearing rubbed against his bare skin, and he shivered. He could feel the warmth of her body through the thin material. One of her hands relinquished its position, and moved down, her fingernails lightly grazing his chest. Such sweet torment.

He kissed her again, deeply, their tongues entwining. He could feel her heart pounding in her chest where she was pressed against him. He drew back, and then resumed the kiss, feeling like he could lose himself in her. He was on fire, but this was nothing like the sun.

She moved her hand up to his cheek, then to his shoulder, where it rested against his neck, as she arched into him. He moved his arm up her back to support her as he bent her over, kissing her again and again.

Logic had somehow vanished with the real world. To Angel, _this_ was real, holding her, loving her. He never wanted it to end.

But somewhere in his desire-numbed brain he registered her hand on his shoulder was now being used to push her away from him. He wanted to ask her not to leave him, and thought about holding onto her, but he couldn't. Reluctantly, he let her go, and opened his eyes as reality intruded into fantasy, destroying the dream he'd been living just a few moments ago.

He had no right to kiss her.

_He _had left _her._

It would never work.

Somehow the standard phrases he had repeated over and over were wearing a little thin, especially with the memory of how soft her lips had been still fresh in his mind.

The guilt poured in regardless.

Buffy had backed away from him slightly, her expression turned inward, as she ran a harassed hand through her hair.

"What am I doing?"

Angel barely caught the soft murmur, but he caught it enough to roughly push the dream away as though it had never been. He had sworn not to hurt her. He wouldn't touch her again.

"Buffy -" Belying his thoughts, his hand reached out to comfort her, but she backed away, looking startled. He slowly lowered his hand again, trying not to show any pain - he had deserved it. "Sorry."

"No."

Angel looked up, startled at the vehemence in her tone.

"It's not your fault," she said, her expression softening. "_I_ made the mistake. I've been dreaming about you for so long..." She smiled, somewhat self-consciously. "I guess I just wanted more than the dream."

Angel couldn't think of anything to say. He just stared at her, as she carried on explaining.

"But, you see, in my dreams, you never left me, and you're human..."

Angel flinched. He couldn't help himself. It was the demon side of him that kept them apart, and yet, strangely enough, it was the demon side of him that had brought them together. If he hadn't become a vampire, he would never have met her. That was a thought that didn't bear thinking about.

Buffy hadn't noticed him drift away from her, and was still talking when he returned his attention to her.

"... problem," she was saying. "Trying to make the dream real just couldn't happen." She looked at him, smiling slightly, mocking herself. "I suddenly remembered just what would happen... if I followed the dream... because you're _not_ human," she finished almost wistfully, her eyes staring off into space, at a vision he couldn't see.

_I can't change, Buffy_, he thought, knowing she couldn't hear him, but needing to clarify his feelings none the less. _I wish I could. God, I wish I could._

He'd known from the very beginning that their love could never be anything, but he'd pursued it anyway, unable to stay away from her. Finally managing to set her free, what good had it done if she still dreamt about him? He could have stayed with her... No, he realised, he couldn't. And that was the whole problem.

Buffy stopped gazing at nothing, and returned her attention to him, the glimmer of a teasing smile on her face.

"But, hey," she said, "what's life without a little excitement?"

Angel felt a half-smile come unbidden to his face. "You have a strange idea of 'little'," he said, thinking of all they'd been through.

"I'll let you in on a secret." Buffy's expression became mock-serious as she approached him, and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "Girls are given to exaggeration." She stepped back, and put a finger to her smiling lips, her eyes dancing mischievously. "Shh," she said, "don't tell anyone."

Angel laughed then, softly. She had been the only one who could make him laugh since his soul had been restored. When she had love him, he had known happiness again... which had created a havoc he'd never dreamed of.

Suddenly sombre once more, he noticed Buffy's expression was turned inward again, this time not on happy thoughts. She looked up, and caught him watching her. A sad smile crossed her face.

"Angel, there's more I've got to tell you," she said. "Just give me a few minutes to get dressed."

The memory of that night's conversation came flooding back to him in full force. He wanted to push it away again, deny its existence, but he'd promised to help her, and, for her sake, he would do what he could.

"Okay," he agreed, and quietly left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks to all you lovely people who have been faving my story or putting it on alert. Also, thanks so much to my reviewers! Hope you enjoy the next chapter._

_Usual disclaimer: the characters, etc. belong to Joss Whedon. I've just borrowed them temporarily._

* * *

**CHAPTER ****SEVEN**

"Here's the deal," she said about half an hour later.

They were seated on the sofa in the living area.

"Poison in me, working its slow-destroying thing." Buffy's voice was perky, but her eyes were beginning to show traces of tears.

_She's putting on a show_, Angel realised. _Trying to be strong, because she doesn't want to be weak. Making light of things is the only way she knows._

Slowly, he reached for her hand where it rested on the cushion. He held it in his own lightly, so she could pull away if she wanted. This wasn't a 'soul-in-danger' touch; this was pure comfort, support. And Buffy knew. He saw it in her face when she looked at their joined hands, and then at him. She made an effort to smile, and returned the gentle pressure of his fingers.

"Well," she continued," this is pain-city for me, but fun-town for the vamps."

Angel got what she was saying. It wasn't difficult to understand.

"No Slayer," he said. With Buffy still alive, but weakened and in agony, she would be in no state to fight the vampires, or anything else that might come along. And while she lived, no new Slayer would be called.

"No Slayer," Buffy confirmed. "And me in pain - two ideas I'm not loving."

Which wasn't surprising, Angel acknowledged, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding that was creeping into his deliberately-neutral emotions. Just thinking about this made him a little crazy. In order to help her, he had to push his emotions aside. He could feel again later, when she no longer needed him.

But this sensation wouldn't be denied, and, when he looked at Buffy, he _knew_. He just _knew_. He couldn't help it; the barriers came crashing down.

At that moment, the front door opened, and Cordelia entered, rucksack slung casually over her shoulder, striding towards her room with a sense of purpose.

"You would not believe the night I've had!" she was saying, not even bothering to look at the room's occupants. "Obsessed much! Lisa would _not_ stop talking. This problem; that problem! Like _I_ don't have problems." She finally stopped walking, dumping the rucksack on the floor, while one hand splayed over her chest close to her neck, emphasising herself. She still didn't look at them. "As if living in this mess, working in a business where they don't even charge a nominal fee isn't big on the problem list." She took a moment to gesture around the apartment, and catch Angel's eye, noticing Buffy in the same cursory gesture. "Oh, hi Buffy." Her attention elsewhere again, she picked up her rucksack, and continued towards her room, muttering about Lisa. "That girl is -"

Abruptly, she stopped, and slowly turned back towards them, mouth open, eyes wide - the epitome of 'stunned'. Angel would have smiled if his thoughts weren't going haywire.

Cordelia mouthed the word 'Buffy', still staring at her.

Buffy smiled an innocent self-conscious smile, and raised a hand, splayed her fingers, then dropped it down again.

Cordelia switched her gaze to Angel, questioning.

He looked at her, willing her, just for once, to go away; to let it be, and go away.

Whatever she saw in his face obviously convinced her that talking right now would not be a good idea. She started to back away, a bright smile plastered on her face. She gestured behind her.

"I'll be -" She switched tactics, looking at Buffy. "Nice to -" In the end, she gave up, throwing her hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. "Whatever."

She turned, and walked off.

Buffy laughed softly. "Wow," she said. "Cordelia really doesn't change, does she!"

Angel tried to smile, and failed abysmally. "No," he confirmed.

He looked at her. She avoided him for a while, finally sighing, and turning towards him.

"You've figured it out, haven't you?" she asked, her voice quiet. "You know how I want you to help me."


	8. Chapter 8

_Usual disclaimer: the characters, etc. belong to Joss Whedon. I've just borrowed them temporarily._

* * *

**CHAPTER ****EIGHT**

Angel nodded, willing himself to stay calm if only for a little while longer. "Yes."

But he couldn't do it. He just couldn't. Everything in him rebelled against it. It had been bad enough when she had made him drink her after Faith had poisoned him just before the Mayor's ascension. Then, he had been worried about killing her, afraid that he would. Now, she was _asking_ him to kill her.

Buffy looked down, pretending to examine her hands. "I don't want to be in that amount of pain," she said softly. She looked at him again, determination in her expression. "And I don't want to let the vamps win, not even for a day." She paused for a moment, before continuing, not really seeing him "Also - new problem: Giles - book-lover extraordinaire - has been going on and on about one of those apocalyptic events which is heading our way. The signs have been around for a while now." She focused on him again. "I thought I'd be strong enough to fight it."

Angel looked away from her searching expression, so sad, but so hopeful.

"I can't -" His voice broke. He took a moment, and then tried again. "I can't kill you, Buffy." He pushed away from the sofa, and walked to a corner of the room, standing with his back to her. "Please don't ask me."

"And that's it?" Buffy asked incredulously, a stronger emotion lying at the back of her voice, waiting to break loose. "You're going to let the vamps have their fun while I die in agony? You're going to let them hurt me while my friends try to avert something they're never going to survive without a Slayer at full strength around to help them?"

Angel's control broke, and he roughly turned towards her, everything he was feeling rising in him as anger - at her for asking, and at himself for being so weak he couldn't comply with her request.

"You think I want to let them win?" he almost shouted at her. "You think I want them to hurt you, to hurt anyone? I want to kill them for what they've done to you. For the pain they've caused -"

Buffy cut him off, standing and walking over to him in one smooth movement. "Which is nothing to the pain _you_ are going to cause me," she said. "Have caused me, in fact, ever since I met you."

Tears began to stream down her cheeks. Angel struggled not to react.

"Then why seek me out now?" he asked, a whole barrage of emotions mixing with the anger: pain, frustration, confusion, fear. "I let you go - set you free to live your life..."

He started to turn away from her, but she grabbed his arms, turning him back around to face her. "Yeah, but did you ever stop to think about that freedom, Angel?" she asked bitterly. "I never stopped loving you." She shook him to punctuate each word, still angry, still upset, but calming down. She released him, stepping away slightly. "I never stopped."


	9. Chapter 9

_Hope everyone is still enjoying the story. Again, I'm really grateful to my reviewers and all of you who have shown interest in the story. Thanks everyone!_

_Usual disclaimer: the characters, etc. belong to Joss Whedon. I've just borrowed them temporarily._

* * *

**CHAPTER ****NINE**

Slowly, her words penetrated the haze of emotions Angel was struggling through. He felt the anger seep away, leaving the now-familiar pleasure-pain. Strange how something could sound so exhilarating and so depressing at the same time.

There was silence in the room now, except for Buffy's slightly harsh breathing that was gradually returning to normal.

She was facing away from him, across the room, the tracks of her tears staining her cheeks. Angel watched her, realising he'd been hitting out at her. He'd been thinking only of his pain, how much _he_ didn't want to lose her. But he lost her the day he decided to leave, as much as she lost him. She had even killed him once, to save everyone. Now, she was asking _him_ to kill _her_, not only to save people the world over, but to save her as well, either from dying in agony very slowly, or ending up as food for the vampires she would still try to protect everyone from, weakened or not, in pain or not.

He didn't deserve her.

As the thought entered his head, there was no doubting the truth in it. He didn't deserve her, or the admission that had been forced from her moments ago.

"That's why."

Her voice was so soft, Angel wasn't sure she had spoken, but he froze anyway, watching her, waiting.

She gave him a shaky smile before looking away again. "That's why I sought you out," she clarified, "why I had to find you." Finally, she turned to him, her expression open to him, no more a shield for her emotions. "If I'm going to die, I wanted to be able to say goodbye... and I wanted to help you."

Slowly, she walked towards him, her eyes never leaving his. She examined his face for a moment, but he knew she wouldn't be able to read his expression. He didn't know how he felt himself... except numb. A strange sense of calm had temporarily descended. It reminded him of the calm before the storm.

"Angel."

He focused his attention away from his thoughts, and solely on her.

Her eyes searched his. "Remember that day, not long before Graduation?" As she talked, her eyes never left his face, wanting to see his reaction when it came, if it came. "How I cured you?"

That was not something he was about to forget, Angel knew. Her blood - the blood of a Slayer - had strength over and above any other he'd ever tasted. He nearly hadn't been able to stop; he thought he'd killed her. And she had made him do it, enticed the demon out of him when he'd been too weak to fight her. She had risked her life to save him. Now, he would save her... but only from further pain; he couldn't save her life.

"I know what you're asking," he told her quietly, and he saw from the expression in her eyes that his acceptance was plain in his face and voice. Still, one part of him argued against it. To pacify it, he asked one last question, already knowing the answer. "You're _sure_ there's no other way?"

Buffy shook her head, then started to smile, the teasing, mischievous look her loved. "Not unless you want to give me some of my Slayer blood back," she joked. "Who knows? It might reverse the process, and cure me."

It wouldn't - they both knew it. She was teasing, making light of a much-too-heavy situation. There was nothing else for her to do - Angel knew it. So he'd help.

"Sorry," he said, mock-serious. "Wouldn't work. Too much demon in it now."

"Drat." Buffy swung her arm down, clicking her fingers as she went.

Angel barely noticed. His teasing phrase was returning to haunt him over and over. _Too much demon in it now_. No, he couldn't! He tried to block the traitorous thought away, but it had taken root, and was whispering to him seductively.

To make Buffy a vampire... Eternal - she wouldn't die... The demon blood would heal her, and she would be with him forever...


End file.
